Farners Market was gone to

I managed most of a night of sleep last night.
Maybe almost seven hours - which is possibly more than I have slept all up the previous three nights.
So I went to the farmers market this morning mostly to spend some time with Greer.  I am still handling my own company very poorly, last night, slightly late, I made my father come around and chat because I wasn't able to handle an evening of myself.
But the farmers market with Greer was nice for the being able to talk, forcing myself to eat something so I could take my morning metformin was less good.  Third day of finding any eating at all hard to force myself to do.
Greer was good company, and bumped by chance into Simon.  So I got to see people I like.
When Greer was picked up to leave her spawn got all excited to see me from the car.  It is nice to be appreciated by people, even if they are toddlers.


[Mid-afternoon edit]
I managed to eat all my soup at lunch.  Regret it but managed it.  Meaning I am totally fine...
And my dad bought me some groceries to make sure that if I sulk ball and don't leave the house for a while I can continue to have sensible food that I can force myself to eat.

And I got the small stuff from my grandmother's house today.  The furniture I have no actual room for will come later.  Includes a couple of nice framed pictures of me.  The nicer I had intended to give to the Semi-Imaginary One and the other I was going to pillage of the frame and use it for a copy of the nice picture of him the the ODT took at the ceremony.  (So glad I had been slightly slack at ordering the print.)
Now I just have two framed pictures of myself with no use for either.  I don't really want to look at me.
And the one person I still just automatically want to share this story with is the one person that I can't share it with.  Well, shouldn't.   I could text it to him, but that would only invite further pain.

I didn't get that much stuff from my grandmother, but it is still too much.  Maybe when the furniture comes will help - but I have too much stuff in my house and nowhere to put it.
Which I am now crying about.
Except, of course, that isn't actually what I am crying about.

Only half an hour by myself and I am already losing it at my own company.  And far too wanting to talk in a warm-fuzzy sharing way with someone that no longer makes sense to.

And then I think about that and remember his behaviour and how it means he never liked me all the much, and am split between wondering why he strung me along and wondering what is so fundamentally unlikeable about me that even after years of trying with someone they never came around to thinking maybe I was worth any effort.